


To Be Warm Is to Be Alive

by LuciustheDragon



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: BECAUSE THEY MAKE ME CRY, Crying, Cuddling, FUCK, GET IT, Hurt/Comfort, I cried while writing this, I love them so much, I suppose, I'm not ok, M/M, confessions... sorta, fuck they're probably out of character but, injuries mentioned, it's me projecting, join me in hell with these two ok, nothing graphic tho, really gay, super self-indulgent, they kiss, ya kno, ye there's crying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 13:13:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12771816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuciustheDragon/pseuds/LuciustheDragon
Summary: "I don't pick fights I can't win."Perhaps, but at what cost?In which Ephraim's recklessness takes its toll, and Innes reaches his breaking point.





	To Be Warm Is to Be Alive

That absolute fool.   
  
Just like Ephraim to get himself close to killed.   
  
Innes sits in the medical tent, avoids looking at Ephraim even though he made a beeline toward his cot as soon as he could. He doesn’t want to  _ see _ . Damn their pride. Ephraim’s for taking the blow meant for Innes. Innes’s for hating himself for being saved, burrowing away the guilt because he can’t deal with the fact that it’s his own damn fault. He was careless for trying to keep up with Ephraim, so focused on his back and posture and the fleeting heartbeat of beauty that he noticed the enemy too late. Too late for Ephraim.   
  
He reflexively looks down to Ephraim after hearing a hitched, laboured breath. His brow, usually lax and smug, is contorted in pain, jaw clenched even in sleep. Worse yet are the pallid cheeks and the blood soaking through the gauze on Ephraim’s shoulder. What he sees is just as he feared. Yes, Ephraim will live, but Innes, raw with hurt, breaks, because this laboured body lying in front of him is unrecognisable. It does not look like Ephraim, impulsive, breathtaking Ephraim.   
  
“Why...” Innes begins, but he trails off, because he does not know where he was going with his question. _ Why are you here? Why isn’t it me?  Why did you even care to save me? Why do I even care? Why can’t I bring myself to hate you right now?  _ Too many questions, and the answer lies dormant. Because it’s Ephraim. Always Ephraim.    
  
Innes sees the wet dots on the bedsheet before feeling the source. He cries silently until he realises what exactly he is doing. The ward is empty, and he lets out a wet sob, foreign and raw from his throat and it hurts but not nearly so much as the loathing and anger at everything. He expects it to reverberate in the empty tent with how loud it feels, but he is rather quiet. He buries his face in his hands because he can’t look at this anymore, his eyes are so sharp that every detail of every laceration and bruise to the body and soul is too much, so he doesn’t see as Ephraim’s eyes flicker open tiredly.

 

“Oh… Innes…?” The voice is rough, but it’s Ephraim. Innes jolts. Played for a fool, he was. Pouring his heart out in front of his rival? Stupid, stupid, stupid! Stupid, but Innes can’t help the wail he lets out from behind his hands.

 

“Hey. Hey, Innes. I’m fine. See?” Ephraim, from sheer willpower alone, lifts a hand to his face and cups one of Innes’s hands in his own. Ephraim attempts to coax the hand away from Innes’s face, but his exhaustion gets the better of him and the hand slips from Innes’s. The sudden lack of contact after that fleeting warmth scares him, and he snatches Ephraim’s hand in midair before it can fall to the bed, laces their fingers together.

 

“You… You complete, utter fool!” Now, Ephraim can see the hideous beauty of Innes’s worry and caring. He listens to the hiccoughs and watches Innes’s eyes contort as more tears flow from them. Ephraim squeezes his hand as firmly as he can in his relatively feeble state. He means for it to be a reassuring gesture, but it reminds Innes of what he so nearly lost.

 

“Don’t… Never do that again! Ephraim, you can’t just throw yourself in harm’s way to act the hero! You are to become king! Your people depend on you! I...l—“

 

“Aren’t you also to be king of Frelia? It wouldn’t do for you to die if I can help it.”

 

Oh, what fools they are. Both of them. “And what? You’d have me live while you die?! How could you expect me to bear that pain?”

 

“What does it matter to you?”

 

“Do you not understand? Of course you wouldn’t. You’ve always been oblivious.”

 

“Why, you—“

 

“How can you not see how much I’ve grown to care for you?! How could I live with myself without you by my side, Ephraim?” Innes escalates to a shout by the end, his declaration ringing in both ears along with thrumming heartbeats. He had stopped crying before, but silent tears stream down his face in shock and mortification at what he just admitted.

 

“Oh, Innes… Innes, I’m sorry. So deeply sorry, for selfishly putting you through such pain because I too could not bear to live knowing you to be dead.”

 

“Ah…” Innes slumps, the tension gone and replaced with exhaustion and relief from the revelation that they are somehow alive and neither of them could bear the thought of otherwise. He presses his forehead to Ephraim’s, drinks in the sight of his shining eyes and flushed cheeks because he’s  _ alive _ and then he’s drunk on the warmth of Ephraim’s hand in his hair and his lips because Ephraim is kissing him, they are kissing, warm and vital. Innes pulls back slightly, still feels the phantom brush of Ephraim’s lips and breath against him. In the soft lull, Innes processes what just happened and jolts up.

 

“I—Ephraim, I don’t— what does this mean? Why did you kiss me?” 

 

Ephraim grins the smug grin Innes is used to. 

 

“Because I wanted to kiss you. It’s not really all that complicated.”

 

“B-But, I…” Innes trails off and sighs in exasperation because, loathe as he is to admit it, Ephraim is right. No need to complicate things as he is so inclined to do.

 

“I suppose you’re correct, just this once.”

 

“Hey!” Ephraim would protest further, but he is bone tired from recovering from his battlefield injuries. Innes notices how Ephraim’s eyelids are beginning to slip closed.

 

“Mm… Hey, Innes.” Innes hears a teasing tone through his tired mumbling and bristles slightly.

 

“What is it, Ephraim.”

 

“I’m tired. Stay here.” Innes thinks he’s just making fun, but one look at his face shows that he is absolutely serious. He supposes he can accomodate for Ephraim’s sake. Or he can tell himself that as he nods his assent and lifts the sheet so that Innes may join him on the cot.

 

“Hm…” Ephraim hums sleepily and contentedly at Innes pressed close to him and he snuggles. If Innes’s heart swells at the gesture, he is the only one who will ever know.

 

“‘Night.” Innes expects a response, but sees that Ephraim is already asleep. Innes lets himself smile fondly at his… Well, he can figure it out another time, when sleep is not beckoning him. They can, together. Content, Innes presses a kiss to Ephraim’s forehead. He embraces Ephraim by the waist with one hand and runs fingers through his hair with the other until he too falls into a restful sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> rip in pieces for I am deceased by too much investment in these dumbasses


End file.
